


The Story Our Skin Tells

by outlineincolor456



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Tattooed Dean Winchester, Tattooed Sam Winchester, Through the Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlineincolor456/pseuds/outlineincolor456
Summary: This is what I wrote with no intention of being a full work. It started as a little ask story on say-yes-to-hole's tumblr, originally intended to be short and maybe about 15 parts (there's 62).Dean comes home, smelling of blood, ink, sex, and cigarettes when Sam's thirteen. They're staying in a crappy apartment in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Dean collects more and more tattoos over the weeks they stay, before they move, again. Dean keeps collecting over the years when Sam realizes what those tattoos are for he decides to start collecting as well. Together the Winchesters make their bodies shrines to each other, shrines of ink and flesh. This is the story of the journey.





	The Story Our Skin Tells

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, this started as me just dicking around and feeling a little inspired by the thought of Sam getting Dean's fingerprints tattooed on his hips. To see the original asks check out https://say-yes-to-hole.tumblr.com/ with the tag ?anon. I hope you enjoy.

It started when Dean was 17. He was flirting and pleasuring a girl in the town they were in, Somewhere, Indiana. Her older brother was a tattoo artist. It was the first time Dean had pursued another man, of course, everyone he slept with, pleasured, was a distraction. Dean came back to the motel late every night, smelling like sex and faintly blood mixing with ink and antiseptic. Sam saw it when Dean came out of the shower at the end of the week, anyone else would have said it was a girly tattoo, but it fit so well, the roses crawling around Dean's shin and up his calf. 

"Nice flowers." Sam snorted flatly. 

"Shut up, get your shit we're late for school. Dad's been on my ass, they've been calling him about the tardies." Dean shot back before smearing antibiotic cream over the tattoo and squeezing into jeans, commando, and a tight t-shirt, a flannel, and jacket. 

Dean comes home late again, smelling of blood, ink and antiseptic again. This time there’s something to see, where he usually had his leather cuff, was new ink. It was dim in the room, just the lamp on the far side of the bed closest to the door was on, Sam half asleep with his calculus book shut, papers sticking out of it, on the bed next to him. 

“Dad’ll kill you if he sees.” he mumbles. 

“’S why they’re where dad won’t see. Go to sleep Sammy.” 

“ ’S Sam, De.” 

The next time Dean comes home with the now familiar smell of blood, ink and antiseptic Sam is awake, and it's early for Dean. There's a bandage on his hip, and one wrapped around his fingers on his right hand, delicate and white. A week later their dad comes back. They leave town. Dean stops coming home smelling like blood and ink. Sam misses it, and with how Dean seems to droop like a flower in a space that doesn't get enough sun, he knows Dean misses the tattoos too. 

When Sam goes off to Stanford he still hasn't cataloged all of the tattoos Dean had gotten. After the fire, after a few months on the road together, Sam takes advantage of having to stitch up a gouge that goes from the bottom of Dean's ass to his knee. A slice on a shoulder on one side, and scratches on the ribs on the other. He'd added to his collection. Still keeping it mostly where people won't see. They had to keep identifying marks down in case witnesses were questioned. While stitching the gouge Sam has the opportunity to see the first tattoo. The roses wrapping around Dean's leg. They'd been touched up recently, the red petals vibrant and breathtakingly realistic. In between the thorns and stems, woven together almost too tightly to see between, are important dates. The night they burnt that field down, when Sam thought that Dean would finally kiss him, Sam's birthday, the day Sam said his first word, Sam's first day of school, his graduation date and the date Sam left for Stanford. Now, small and neat, brand new black ink, 11/02/05. The day Sam rejoined Dean. All important days for them. Sam finished the stitches and applied an antibiotic cream, then moved up to the slice in the shoulder, stitching it carefully with fingers numb to the motions with muscle memory guiding him. There's a cypress leaf, branch, whatever you'd call it, on Dean's left hip. It made sense, seeing as they spent so much time in cemeteries. 'Bitch' in Dean's own scrawl was on the back of one bicep, 'Jerk' in Sam's on the other. Carefully placed to be hidden under a short-sleeved shirt. Dean had ditched the cuff for the earlier to shower, getting the soot and ash mixed with dirt and pine needles off his skin, and now, for the first time, Sam could see what Dean had tattooed there. His initials, looking just like they did in the board of the Impala.

Two weeks after that hunt, after seeing the tattoos dedicated to him, Sam found a tattoo shop in the small city they were in for the case. It was clean, and he had been careful with the idea in his head. The paper folded carefully into pocket size. Hours later Sam was back in the motel room. It took them a week to track down the witch, and she hadn't gone down easy either. Sam had twisted a knee and been tossed into a china cabinet, small lacerations everywhere. Dean had stripped off what he could of Sam's clothes, the kid was heavy and half-conscious and very good at his octopus impression. 

"Sam, you gotta help me on this. Can't manhandle you like I used to." Sam pouted at that and sighed, slowly, carefully peeling off his undershirt and exposing what, at first glanced, looked like the bruise one would find from someone gripping someone's hips tightly. Dean's eyes darkened for a moment with jealousy and barely concealed rage. 

Dean ducked his head and set to work finding what he'd need from the first aid kit. Meanwhile, Sam smirked and shucked his jeans. Dean always tried to hide that jealousy, and until he had seen Jess, he'd succeeded. Now, Sam could see the green fire that lit up those eyes from a mile away. There was just a glimpse of the other fingerprints, dark and prominent on Sam's hip bones. Dean couldn't help himself, his fingertips grazed along the ink. 

"De." Sam's voice was hushed and rough. Dean huffed and turned his head to make sure he had everything. Grabbing one of the tins they kept in the box he readied the tweezers. 

"Glass first Sam." He growled, making goosebumps rise along Sam's arms and a thrill run up his spine. Sam rolled his eyes and gave him Bitch Face #15 with a sigh. He just turned around, the boxer briefs not hiding the fingerprints on the back of his hips, the white fabric nearly transparent in spots from sweat and wear. Dean hands the other pair of tweezers to Sam and puts the tin within reach for them both. Sam removes the glass from his arm while Dean removes it from his shoulder. When Dean finishes he runs a careful finger along Sam's skin to feel for any glass he can't see. Finally, he reaches the waistband of the underwear, a fingernail teasing the edge until he sees blood on the right asscheek where the fabric is torn. 

"Off," Dean says firmly before carefully peeling off the boxer briefs. Sam gasps as he feels Dean's breath against the smooth skin which wasn't as pale as Dean remembered when they were younger, the glimpses of lily-white where waistbands and shorts, swim trunks and jeans denied the sun the sight of Sam's perfectly perky ass. 

"Been sunning in the nude Sammy?" Dean half-joked, voice strained with the idea of Sam, stretched out somewhere and absorbing the sun where someone else could see /his/ Sam. 

"Jess's family owned a beach house. Private beach." Sam shrugged. 

Dean shook his head, sighing heavily as he set to work removing the piece of ceramic in Sam's ass. Sam couldn't help but flinch some, the piece was just big enough that, thanks to sitting on it, it had made a nice little hole and made wedged itself in. 

"Hold still." Dean snapped, left-hand pinching just below the crease of where buttcheek met thigh. 

"Ow! Dean!" 

"Shut up Bitch." 

"You're being a Jerk." 

 

Two stitches, Dean is barely able to concentrate on doing two stitches on Sam's ass. The fingerprints on his hips are a distraction all on their own, but it doesn't help that Dean knows that he could push Sam down on the bed and spread his cheeks and devour his baby brother's sweet little hole. 

"De," Sam says softly. Dean's zoned out, halfway through the first stitch, needle poised to finish it and start the next. "Dean." Sam says firmer. Finally Dean pushes Sam down. Sam lets out a surprised huff but spreads his legs in invitation. 

"Damn Sammy-" 

"It's Sam." Sam responds in an honest reflex. Dean chuckles before ducking down and nipping on the sensitive flesh of the inner cheek before shaking himself out of it and finishing the stitches and pressing a bandaid over them to keep them clean from the activities to come. Sam shivered as he felt Dean's warm breath ghost over his hole, stretched almost too much with the plug he'd slid in before they left. Dean nipped around the stretched rim until Sam squirmed from the slight stinging until he soothed it with a broad, soft lick to quite his brother. 

"Shh baby boy, easy." Sam huffed and glared at the older the best he could over his shoulder. 

"I get your fingerprints tattooed on my hips, prep myself for you, and basically offer my ass to you on a silver platter and you think I want to take it easy? C'mon De, show me who I belong to." Dean gripped Sam's hips tight, a growl humming deep in his chest as he covered the younger with his still fully clothed body. 

"Don't get sassy with me baby boy. Now, ask nicely and I'll give you what you need." 

Sam swallowed thickly. "Please daddy, make me yours?" His voice shook with uncertainty, lust, and need. Sam wasn't sure if this was what Dean had meant by asking nicely, it's not like they'd negotiated any kinks. Since Sam was 16 he'd hung out at the library when Dean brought someone back to the motel. It had become an issue for him to sit outside the door and listen to the moans of his brother, then try to slip off to the bathroom without Dean noticing the wet patch he'd made in his jeans. Sam didn't know if Dean had other partners call him Daddy, or if it was just him, but judging by the way Dean moaned and started pulling the plug out, he'd said the right thing. 

Dean wasted as little time as he could, two fingers inside of Sam, making sure he was still loose and relaxed enough to take him. "Dean." Sam huffed out, bemused at how distracted and focused the older Winchester was. "You gotta take your clothes off too." Dean blinked, confused for a moment before realizing that he was still clothed, there was a tin with sharp pieces of glass on the bed, and the suture needle pressing into his knee. 

"Oh. Right." Dean blushed slightly embarrassed. 

Dean sat up, uncovering Sam's naked frame and taking his body heat with him. Carefully he moved the suture needle away from his knee and placed it with the glass and ceramic he'd pulled out of Sam's flesh not even an hour ago. Gentle hands pulled Sam up and guided him to the other bed, the one he'd been sleeping in furthest away from the bathroom, and closest to the door. The haze broke long enough to make sure that they had all bleeding taken care of first. They'd be busy for a bit. Sam went willingly, happy to follow Dean blindly. As he went Dean shed his clothing and guided the taller to lay on his back, pulling the blankets and sheets back. Sam pulled a pillow down and settled it under his hips, watching Dean with intent eyes, nearly golden yet dark with lust, swirling with every color imaginable.

"Show me baby boy." Dean rumbled, needing to see Sam submit. With a shiver, Sam spread his legs and bared his hole to Dean's gaze.Dean licked his lips at the sight of his baby boy's hole, pink and shiny with the lube he'd used; the faintest taste of peach on his tongue told him that it was flavored stuff, fluttering around nothing. 

"Where's the lube baby?" He grunted, stroking his hardened cock, the tip glistening with precum. 

"My bag, on top." Dean nodded and grabbed Sam's duffel, opening it and groaning at the sight. Panties. Silky and lacy, cotton, satin, various colors ranging from black to the most delicate pink. Quickly Dean grabbed his cock, squeezing to keep him off the edge, he couldn't be that close when he entered that sweet ass, he'd never last. Snatching the peach lube out he popped the cap open and drizzled it onto his aching dick, red and angry that he'd neglected it for damn near an hour. Slicked up he dropped the bottle onto the bed next to Sam's shoulder, just in case they need it again later. Kneeling between Sam's legs, he rested one slender ankle on his shoulder, the other knee around his hip, a gentle but firm grip holding Sam’s ankle, Sam holding his cheeks apart as Dean slowly pressed in, just barely. 

“You’re sure Sammy?” 

“Goddamn it Dean if you don’t get inside me in the next ten seconds-” Dean chuckled and slid in, not stopping until he was fully seated in the tight heat. A groan shuddered and shook it’s way out of his chest, Sam’s gasps only encouraging him. “Move.” “Now who’s bossy?” 

“You’re still short.” Dean replied with a sharp thrust. Sam pulled his leg up to press his heel into Dean’s lower back, trying to get him to move, but it seemed as though Dean had froze. “De?” “Just a minute baby boy, trying to hold on.” Sam smiled softly and pulled Dean into a kiss. 

“I love you,” Dean mumbled against his lips, nudging his nose along Sam’s. 

“No chick flick moments before orgasms Dean.” 

“Gonna get it now baby boy.” Dean chuckled as he started moving, setting a quick pace that grazed along Sam’s prostate. Sam clutched Dean's now slightly sweaty back, nails digging in. His tattoos still stung slightly as Dean's fingers pressed into them, fitting perfectly. 

"De, 'm no- oooh god gon' last" he shivered, nipping and nuzzling Dean's throat. 

"Me either baby boy. Y'er like vice." Dean growled. Dean let go of Sam's hip and wrapped his hand around his brother's leaking cock, only to have it slapped away. 

"Only you or not at all." Sam said firmly, making Dean whine. 

"Damn baby boy, so hot." Dean doubled his efforts, pressing one hand on Sam's lower abdomen, where he could feel how deep he filled his baby boy. Taking Sam's hand he laid it down under his and pressed, just enough to feel, then taking his hand back and holding onto Sam, threading his fingers into silky hair damp with sweat just above the nape. "Come for me Sam. C'mon, come with me." Dean growled quietly against Sam's throat, biting his earlobe. Sam's vision whites out as he climaxes, Dean joining him. 

The world stands still for what seems like a lifetime, even though they both know that it was probably closer to a few minutes. Slowly, skin damp with sweat and Sam's release, they curl together, Dean's softening cock slipping out, making them groan at the feeling of loss and friction in over sensitive areas. "So my fingerprints huh? Where'd you get those?" Dean hummed, fingertips tracing over Sam's hip. 

"Stole the sheet from the last time we got arrested." 

"That's my boy." Dean chuckled, brushing hair out of Sam's face before his own; it had grown too long, he'd have to cut it soon which was far easier now that he had Sam to make sure that the back was even. Sam smacked Dean on the shoulder and rolled his eyes.   
"Only did it so I'd have the prints." Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. "Okay! Okay, it was also to pull your prints out of the system, they hadn't scanned them in yet." 

Suddenly the mood shifts as Dean bites his lip, feeling unsure of how he wanted to go about this. Sam watched his brother, his best friend, his parental figure and now lover debate and fight with himself. Sighing heavily Sam pulls Dean into a long, languid kiss, calming him down and making him refocus for a moment before parting. "Just ask Dean, I know what you want to talk about." Dean flushed and looked at the sheet that they'd pulled up, fiddling with the edge.

"How'd you figure it out?" Dean asks so quietly that it barely breaks the silence, only the sound of their breathing and Sam's fingers tracing the 'Impala' script on the bottom of Dean's left ribcage. 

"Your roses. And this one." Sam tapped on the tattoo that had been hidden under the leather cuff. "You just... it was all the important dates. Tipped me off a little, then the initials, our 'I love you' on your arms." Sam answered, just as softly, keeping the stillness of the quiet. Dean pressed his lips together, chewing on the inside of the lower with a nod. "It didn't help you that you stared down every single person that flirted with me. Haven't gotten laid since..." Sam trailed off and cleared his throat, looking down at his stomach, covered in his own cum and sweat, plus the blood and dirt from the hunt. "We're gross. Can't believe you licked me, 'm covered in ick." Sam huffed lighthearted, shifted his weight, then kissed Dean's cheek. 

"Shower?" 

"Hell yes." 

They end up using all the hot water and taking a long shower that went cold two-thirds of the way through, which is more than they could say for some motels that had hot water for two minutes, so you were taking a cold shower even if you didn’t have a stubborn erection. Dean took his time, gently washing and drying all of Sam’s injuries, combing out his hair and drying it with the provided hair dryer. 

“’S nice, I love when you play with my hair.” Sam hummed, relaxed. 

Dean smiled and pressed a kiss to Sam’s nose, enjoying the temporary height advantage he had while Sam sat on the closed toilet. “Makes sense now.” Dean hummed. Sam opened one eye, like a cat that was lazing in the sunshine mostly asleep, only to be interrupted by gentle fingers petting. 

“What does?” 

“Why you weren’t able to move quite like you normally can. Having that plug in your ass the whole time? Damn.” Dean whistled lowly. 

“Stop it, I can’t take another round right now.” Sam huffed. 

Dean chuckled and finished drying Sam's hair, leaving his only towel dried and mussed. He leads them back to the beds and dug around in his duffel for a pair of boxers, slipping them on. Sam followed his lead and pulled on his favorite pair ("They're lucky, Dean."), purple boxer briefs with little white and silver goldfish on them. Dean thought they were hilarious, making jokes about 'swimming' when he saw them. Looking at Dean's bed they decided to clean off Sam's and turn in. 

Sam tried to not cuddle up, knowing what Dean thought of 'cuddling' after they'd been yelled at by John when Dean was eight and holding Sam after a nightmare. Dean didn't let that slide though, knowing that Sam wanted to cuddle, the kid was practically an octopus, and if Dean was honest with himself or anyone, which he wouldn't be, he loved post-sex cuddling.

"Don't even think about it. C'mon, sleep. Gotta haul ass tomorrow morning." Dean grunted, pulling Sam tight to his chest. He might cuddle, but Dean did not, in any circumstances, allow himself to be the little spoon. And Sam was fine with that, it was nice for someone else to be dominant, with his size and build he was usually looked to for strength, and with Dean, he could be small. He was safe. 

"M'kay Dean. I'll find us a case later too." Sam hummed sleepily, burying his nose in the slope of Dean's neck where it met his shoulder. "I'm gonna wake you up with a blow job though. Deserve it after that kill." 

 

They fell asleep, tangled together so well that it was almost impossible to tell where one brother started and the other began. Sam woke with the early morning sun streaming into the room and directly into his eyes, making him groan quietly deep in his chest and gently paw at the sleep in his eyes and block the sun until he felt more humanoid. He just laid there, letting Dean sleep, admiring how the sun made the cinnamon-gold freckles stand out on Dean's regal facial structure. 

When 9 AM rolled around Sam moved slowly, careful not to wake Dean yet, slipping under the sheet they'd wrapped around themselves. His lips trailed along Dean's chest, stomach and lower abdomen, a kiss pressed light and barely wet to every cluster of cinnamon-gold freckles he found. Soon he had his lips wrapped around Dean's morning wood, softly sucking and slowly bobbing his head, hands and fingers dancing along sensitive spots of skin. It took four minutes before Dean's breathing hitched.   
Sam notices the change in Dean's breathing right away, the groan of pleasure didn't hurt either. 

"F-fuck Sam, shit baby boy harder." Dean's right hand slipped into Sam's hair and tugged, making Sam moan around the mouthful he had. He was quick to comply, knowing that they didn't really have time to let him draw things out like he'd like to. It didn't take long until Dean was spilling down his throat, panting softly and gripping the sheets with his other hand. "Shit." Dean hummed. Sam let go and sat up, licking his lips to clean up anything that had spilled out of his mouth, his hand wiping off any saliva that'd dripped down his chin.   
"Morning." Sam smiled, happier than he'd been in a long time. 

"Good morning." Dean laughed softly, pulling Sam up and into a kiss. "Want me to return the favor?" Sam blushed bright red and looked away, shaking his head. 

"Don't need you to." Dean quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow at the younger before realization dawned. 

"Oh!" Dean blushed lightly, biting his lip. "So you, just from-?" Dean asked and Sam nodded, blushing darker. "That's hot." Sam squirmed before clearing his throat and standing up, the boxers now stained dark purple in the crotch from the mess inside. Sam made to grab clothes for a shower before Dean pulled him back and stripped the underwear off, almost face level with his baby boy's now soft cock, sticky with cum that was half dry at this point. Careful to not overstimulate, Dean licked and sucked, cleaning off all the semen he could. When he looked up he could see that Sam's blush hadn't faded at all, and he could feel his brother's cock twitching with interest and only firming up a little. "Go grab a shower, I'll pack up." Dean murmured, lips pressed to Sam's happy trail as he kissed his stomach. Sam just nodded dumbly before grabbing his towel and heading for the shower. Dean spent that time dressing and gathering their things. 

They were dressed, packed, and everything loaded into Baby by 9:40. Sam slid into his spot and scrunched his nose, wiggled, wiggled again, got out and smooshed the seat around a little, then slid back in with an irritated huff. Dean was barely containing his amusement. "Uncomfortable?" He grinned, digging through the box of tapes and pushing in Iron Maiden's Number of the Beast. Sam glared at Dean from the corner of his eye before grunting. 

"Yeah, Dean, losing your ass virginity 's kinda-" 

Dean’s eyes were wide, which made Sam pause. “You mean you’d never done anal before?” The older of the pair asked, definitely surprised. 

“Wait, you’re telling me that you /have/? Dean you kinky son of a bitch.”

“Says the guy with panties in his duffle.” 

“I know about that time with Rhonda, Dean.” 

“What! How?” 

“Saw the panties in your bag few weeks after, she’d been the only one in a while.” Dean zoned out for a minute, a soft 'huh' falling from his lips. 

They leave, hunt, fuck, and go on through life for a few months before they hit a wall. There's not a single hunt for them, it's quiet, all the other hunts they'd found were already being taken care of by other hunters. So Sam finds them a city with a district that has cheap motels and plenty of places to hustle. He makes sure to target the right people, and they walk away with a few grand in their pockets at the end of a week. 

Sam drags Dean away from the bars for a while. They'd both gotten their anti-possession tattoos a few weeks ago, and ended up having the /hottest/ sex after. He'd found a parlor that was clean, had good artists, and great reviews on Yelp. Sam had scheduled them an appointment to both be tattooed together. He'd found protective runes and they'd come in handy to help later with creatures, the really hot sex was the main goal though. It turned out Dean loves eating him out. 

They spend the next years getting more tattoos, by the time they get the bunker there isn’t much skin not covered by ink. Dean’s gotten some cover-ups, Sam’s had to get them both concealers that cover the tattoos on their necks and fingers when they have to be FBI. They can usually get away with the tattoos when they pose as journalists, except the tattoo on Sam’s inner left wrist that says “Dean’s cumslut”. That he has to cover more often than not. Sam’s got all of Dean’s important dates tattooed in a neat column on his inner bicep. He had to ask Dean for some of the dates, like when Dean saved him from the werewolf when he was 13 and trying to prove to their dad that he was grown up enough to hunt, the day he fell in love with him, the day that Dean started fake fucking girls; because he would go without if he couldn’t have Sam, the date he made The Deal, the day the hounds came, and the day Dean came back.

Now they laid next to each other, the familiar comforting buzz of the tattoo guns both in their ears as they stare at one another. That day’s date being added to both their lists. It was the day Dean proposed. Sam fiddled with his ring as he smiled through the stinging on his bicep, hand behind his head. Dean was done first, the date nestled next to a new rose in the tangle of thorns.

Two years later and Sam’s crying, standing outside of the dungeon, where Dean is inside, coughing and moaning in pain as Sam cures him. They were supposed to get married last month. Sam had to cancel everything, by himself. Castiel was worried about him the entire time Dean was off the radar, he’d barely been taking care of himself. Days would go by that he’d just be staring into space, brain running in circles from exhaustion.   
When he finally had Dean, demon or not, he was still his brother, his lover, his fiance and soulmate. Sam couldn’t lie, he was terrified that this would kill Dean. He was ready if it did though, a bottle of scotch, a letter to Cas he’d written years ago placed on his desk, and his Taurus. That was Sam’s contingency plan for this. Thankfully, he never had to use it. 

 

Three months later they're married. A warm September evening, under nothing but the setting sun. Castiel officiates. Jody and Claire witness. They don’t really have friends, but Jody is family, and Claire is like their niece, sorta. Dean had wanted to invite the nice woman that ran the bakery because she always had a fresh pie for one of them to pick up and take home on Wednesdays. 

They spend their honeymoon road tripping to Palo Alto. 

 

They spend their time in a nice hotel, there’s no discussion between them, they’re on the same page ; their first time as a married couple will be on a mattress that’s clean, with clean sheets, no noises from next door or down the hall, where they don’t feel like they have to keep their clothes in their duffels to keep them clean. Sam shows Dean around, taking him to the best burger place, the best steakhouse, best places to park and make out like teenagers. 

They end their honeymoon at Jessica’s grave. Sam goes up first, alone, before turning to Dean and nodding. Dean joins him and settles behind Sam, who’s sitting, kneeling behind him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry Jessica, you never got the chance to be this with Sam. I wish you had, he’s incredible, which you already knew.” Sam smiles, a watery smile full of love that stains his cheeks. 

“I was going to Jess, ask you to marry me. I wanted to wait until November 2nd was passed, it felt like asking for trouble if I proposed before. I was right. I’m just sorry you were caught up in our curse.” Sam said, clinging to Dean a little more for comfort. “I’m glad Dean came for me, but I wish that you’d been spared.” Dean kissed Sam’s temple, soothing him. “Truth is, I don’t know if I could’ve done it Jess.” 

Dean gave Sam a curious look, eyebrow arched. Sam shoved Dean with his shoulder before turning back to the headstone. “Dean and I are soulmates. We never would’ve worked, and I’m glad I never had to break your heart like that. De and I would always go to each other, we’ve always belonged together.” Dean snorts and calls him a cheesy sap, Sam just huffs and points out that Dean is just as sappy and cheesy as he is. 

“I hope, that if you were still alive, that you’d be okay with us. Or at least be happy that I’m happy.” Sam says softly, then gives Dean a look and a kiss before Dean leaves him to start Baby and let Sam say goodbye. Five years later, they know it’s the end for them. They make sure to text their mom the location they’ve left Baby, mail the keys to her and pay the hotel staff to make sure their home will be safe in the parking lot for a few days. 

Together they go to the large field they’d spent the past few nights in. It was their anniversary getaway, 6 months late, but they knew it was the end of their journey. It was a few days before Sam’s birthday. They stood in the field, the stars bright and beautiful. It was perfect . The brothers spent their last moments together, stargazing, falling asleep to never wake up on earth again. 

Sam woke up, warm and safe, in Dean’s arms. They were stretched out in Baby’s back seat, Sam laying mostly on top of Dean, just off center enough to let them both breathe without trouble. Dean’s sitting up already, smiling down at him. “Mornin’ bitch.”

“Hey, jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking suggestions/requests on here, so leave them in the comments! Comments and kudos go a long way to encouraging me to continue writing and get better at it.


End file.
